Sacrifice: Scenes from the Missing Month
by laurie31
Summary: What happened in the month between Sacrifice and The Captain's Hand? LeeBill Adama angst. Rated T, for explicit descriptions of medical procedures. Ch 3 has no gory medical drama, but addresses the most glaring ommission: shirtless Lee in the gym!
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: What did we miss in the month between Sacrifice and The Captain's Hand? Too much, IMHO! Anyway, this scene materialized in my brain and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down. It's short and it's my very first BSG fic...I hope you like it. There are now a couple more scenes after this one. I will get them up soon.

Sacrifice, continued

Lee spent most of his time sleeping. He figured it was because of the medicines they gave him, but he didn't care. Sleep meant not feeling the pain and not having to think. He wasn't ready to think yet. It took too much effort. He didn't want to think about Kara.

Kara. What about Kara? She had plainly said that there was nothing between them. Did he think differently? Had he ever? Kara was confusing. She was all sharp edges and loud words. She always had his back, though and he always had hers. That's what best friends did. Except on Cloud Nine. He still didn't know exactly what happened, how it had happened. He was instinctively trying to help Kara but he didn't have a weapon. What was he thinking? And what was she thinking? Shoot first, ask questions later, same as always. He knew it was a mistake, of course. An accident. She must feel terrible. He had watched her watch him fall. She was so stunned that the marines had to practically drag her out. He had expected to find her there beside him when he woke up. But she hadn't come. Part of him was glad. Another part felt betrayed. Another was simply bewildered. Sleeping was better. Sleep silenced all the parts.

Sometimes when he woke, Dee would be there. Dee was quiet and calm and comforting. She fed him ice chips and held his hand. She talked softly, telling him the latest pilot gossip. He wondered absently how she knew so much, and then realized of course that she monitored communications. When you were on CAP, sometimes you forgot that someone else was listening. He still wasn't sure of his feelings for Dee, but found he didn't mind her ministrations. Maybe he should give things with Dee a chance. She certainly seemed to think he already had. What did he have to lose?

Other times, he would wake to find his father there. In fact, the elder Adama came a lot. Maybe every day. Maybe more. It was hard to know exactly. Time was blurred with pain, narcotics, and boredom.

Admiral Adama had been shaken by the sight of his son lying pale and lifeless in the lounge on Cloud Nine. He had almost lost his son. Again. He made time to stop by sick bay often, even when there wasn't time. He watched his son sleeping, watched his chest rising and falling. He watched the tracing of his heartbeat on the monitor. He held his son's hand and felt the warmth of his body. These things reassured him that his son was alive. Occasionally Lee would wake up and seem pleased to see him there. He always asked how Lee was feeling, and Lee always lied and said, "Fine." Then Adama would tell his son about the problems of the fleet, the state of the air group, things a commander would discuss with the CAG. Partly because he wanted to keep his son informed and partly because he wasn't sure what else to talk about. Work had been his life for too many years. However, now he had Lee and slowly they were rebuilding their relationship. Perhaps the CAP rotation between Galactica and Pegasus wasn't the most intimate of topics, but one had to start somewhere.

Lee lay quietly, listening to his father's voice. He was pleased in a way he couldn't quite define that he was being kept up to date. He knew his father wasn't expecting him to make decisions or give orders, but it was nice not to be left out. He had also gotten to know his father well enough over the last few months to realize this was his way of showing that he cared. Sometimes Lee listened with interest. Other times, like now, when his mind was clouded with pain and drugs, he didn't really hear the words, but was comforted by the sound of Adama's voice and his reassuring grip on his hand. He had a vague memory of his Dad being there on Cloud Nine, shouting his name and gripping his hand. He squeezed his father's hand a bit tighter as he remembered doing it then.

At that point, they were interrupted by someone pulling back the curtain and approaching. Lee glanced over, hoping suddenly that it was Kara. He tensed involuntarily, unwittingly clenching his hands into fists, when he saw that it was actually a nurse with her hands full of supplies. She arranged them on the table near his bed, and then laid her hand on his arm.

"It's time to change your dressing, Captain. Admiral, do you mind waiting outside?"

"I'd prefer to stay," he replied quietly.

"Don't you think your son would like some privacy?" She wasn't used to visitors who refused to leave when asked.

Adama stared at her and stated evenly, "If my son wanted me to leave, he would let go of my hand."

Lee realized then that he was in fact still holding his dad's hand, clinging on like a scared child. He was mortified. Yet he couldn't seem to let go.

While Lee was trying to figure out how to get his brain to tell his hand to unclench itself, the nurse was mulling over the idea that apparently neither man wanted the Admiral to leave, so what harm would it do if he stayed. She nodded to the elder Adama that he could remain and began opening the packs of gauze she'd brought. When she had everything ready, she injected a dose of pain medication into Lee's IV, then began to carefully peel the tape away from the gauze covering his chest wound. Lee felt himself start to fade and his grip on his father's hand relaxed slightly.

Soon the nurse had all the tape off and she removed the thick pad covering the site of the injury. Adama watched in horror as she started to pull gauze packing out of the wound. Lee flinched and tightened his jaw as she began. Maybe she was correct; he should have left. He didn't consider himself a squeamish person, but the sight of the long strips of bloody material being removed from his son's wound was sickening. He took a deep breath and returned his attention to his son's face. Despite the medication, Lee was obviously in pain. His jaw was tightly clenched, his eyes were squeezed shut, and every once in awhile he would flinch or gasp and his hand clenched his father's tightly once again. Bill felt he should say something to comfort his son but he had no idea what. Everything that came to mind seemed hollow and false. _It's all right._ How could he say that, when it was far from the truth? _It's almost over._ He didn't think that was too near the truth either. He risked a glance back at the nurse and instantly regretted it. The pile of discarded bloody gauze had grown impossibly large and she continued to remove more. Was the wound that deep? He told himself he was not going to look again.

"That's all of it," the nurse spoke as she removed the final piece. Lee sighed and Adama brushed the hair back from his forehead.

Lee's respite was short-lived as the nurse had soon discarded the old dressing and changed into fresh gloves. Now she was ready to repack the wound with clean gauze.

Lee tried to brace himself, but he still jerked back against the bed when the first piece was inserted. "Take some deep breaths, Captain," the nurse soothed. "Try to relax. Imagine you're someplace else."

The young captain tried to comply but it wasn't easy. First off, taking a deep breath hurt, thanks to the location of the wound. Second, relaxing was out of the question, despite the medication he'd been given. Finally there was that suggestion to think of someplace pleasant. They'd tried that with him before. Some of them even offered suggestions. Hadn't he gone to the beach, or fishing, or to an amusement park as a child? Well, actually yeah, he had. However his mother and brother had been there too, so those memories no longer qualified as happy ones. Maybe one day they would again, but he wasn't there yet. There were a couple of times he'd gone somewhere with his dad when his mom hadn't been along, but of course Zak had come. Usually these were trips to the spaceport. His Dad had loved showing his boys around there. He even had a picture of the three of them in front of his viper. Nope, he did NOT want to think about that. Facing his physical pain was preferable to experiencing his intense emotions and profound grief. Wincing again as more gauze was packed into the wound, he decided maybe he wasn't sure which was the lesser of the two evils after all.

Adama continued to hold Lee's left hand in his own and placed his right hand on his son's shoulder, trying to soothe the pain as best he could with his presence. He wasn't very good at this. Caroline had always been the one to take care of the boys when they were hurt. In fact, he had rarely even been around when it happened. Lee had needed stitches a couple of times and fell and broke his arm once, but Bill hadn't been home. He had a new respect for his late wife as he imagined what it was like for her to see her child in pain and not be able to do anything to make it stop. The most he'd seen of the boys when they were hurt was a skinned knee or scraped elbow. He'd always told them to be brave and not cry. Warriors didn't cry. He was wrong. Warriors were human just like everyone else. Well, most of them were. He wondered what Lee would think if he knew his father had wept over a dead Cylon.

Lee was struggling not to cry out. Did he remember what he'd been told as a child? Was he still trying to be brave for his father? As Bill watched, a tear slipped from under his son's tightly shut lids. Lee turned his head quickly as if to hide it or brush it away in the pillow and a small groan escaped his lips. Bill squeezed his shoulder. "You're doing fine son, I know it hurts." The words were out before he realized it. He hadn't meant to let Lee know he had seen.

Lee was at first taken aback, but then found his father's words oddly comforting. He wondered why. The nurses had said virtually the same thing on occasion, their voices dripping with sympathy. It hadn't helped when they had said it. Was it different just because his Dad said it? No, that wasn't it. It was how he said it. Not cloyingly. He had just stated it matter-of-factly. Then it dawned on Lee. His father knew. It wasn't just some platitude, he actually knew. The memory of his father lying wounded in sick bay sprung unbidden to his mind. Had they done this to him? Had he cried out? Shed tears? Shouted curses? He was totally nonplussed. The idea of his father being anything but stalwart was completely foreign to him. Even though he'd visited his father briefly a few times, he hadn't seen him conscious and in pain. The mental image of his father undergoing the same treatment he was now experiencing was so disconcerting that Lee was unaware of the last few strips of gauze being packed into his chest wound. The next thing he knew, the nurse was taping down the final bandage. She stepped away for a brief moment and returned with a damp washcloth. Lee's face was covered with a sheen of sweat and she began blotting it off.

Bill reached for her hand and met her eyes. "Here. I can do that." He took the cool cloth from her and continued sponging Lee's face and neck. The nurse smiled as she relinquished the cloth, wondering how he had managed to distract her patient so completely there at the end. Seeing that Lee's vital signs were stable, she left him in the capable hands of his father.

After the nurse had gone, Lee opened his eyes and looked up at his dad. He had so many questions, but he was too exhausted to voice any of them. The coolness on his face felt so good. Lee saw the answer to all his questions in his father's eyes. He saw his father's love. He smiled and closed his eyes again and drifted off into the waiting arms of Morpheus.

Bill stayed for some time after he was sure Lee was soundly sleeping. He had seen the anxiousness in his son's eyes. He didn't have the words to reassure him, but Lee had understood all the same. He watched as Lee's expression changed to one of contentedness and then he saw something new. He saw his son's love for him. Pride and hope swelled within him. Maybe he was going to get the hang of this fatherhood thing after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Why did it take Lee so much longer than Bill to recover? And why was Lee not more excited about his promotion?

Maybe Lee had complications...

(In other words, the author hurts Lee some more. )

and as for Lee/Dee - (with apologies to Dr. Suess...)

I do not like them  
in the rain  
I do not like them  
on a plane  
I do not like them  
in an attack  
I do not like them  
in Lee's rack  
I do not like  
to see them play  
but she's in my story anyway.

Sorry.

Apparently what I think happened and what I wish happened are slightly different. Who knew!

_2 1/2 weeks have passed since the events of the episode. _

"I don't understand, I was shot twice and was back on duty in less than two weeks!"

"You shouldn't have been," Dr. Cottle told the Admiral dourly, "But the fleet was going straight to hell. If I didn't release you, Tigh was going to finish what the Cylons started." Adama's glare stopped Cottle from elaborating further on his opinions of Tigh's command abilities. The cantankerous doctor wasn't about to apologize for speaking the truth, but he took the hint to change the subject. "Don't worry. The wound is healing nicely. He's stable. I'll let him out of here in another day or two. He'll likely be fit for duty in a week or so. Not for flying vipers of course, but he can fly a desk." Neither man smiled at the tired joke, realizing that Lee hadn't flown a viper for quite some time now. He had never been recertified for combat since his accident in the blackbird. Adama was hoping his son would soon be back in the cockpit and he could put all this behind him.

Satisfied with the update from the doctor, he headed over to visit with Lee.

Lee was awake, but looking bored as he stared up at the ceiling. He smiled tightly as he noticed his father approach.

"Hey," Adama spoke first, smiling back at his son. "Cottle says maybe you'll be out of here by the end of the week."

"Great," Lee responded unenthusiastically. Bill wondered at that but dismissed it as boredom, or perhaps frustration at knowing he wouldn't be returning to full duty that soon. He pulled over a chair and sat down. "What do you think about the plan to start using Pegasus as the base for our nugget training instead of Galactica?

"What?" Lee's listlessness was gone.

"Didn't Kara tell you?" Bill was confused that Lee didn't already know about this.

It took a moment for Lee to reply. "Kara hasn't been here," he finally said. Lee hoped he'd sounded nonchalant when he said it.

"Well, I guess she got busy and got distracted. I'm sure she meant to run it by you."

Lee realized his father thought he'd meant Kara hadn't been there _today, _not that she hadn't come at all.

Suddenly he gasped and sat up, clutching his chest.

"Lee? Lee! What's wrong?" Bill jumped to his feet and put a hand on his son's shoulder.

Lee was completely taken off guard by the abrupt onset of stabbing pain. It radiated all the way through to his back and down his arm. He struggled to answer his father. "Can't…breathe…"

Bill looked around frantically for Dr. Cottle, a nurse, anyone. "Hey! HEY! I need some help over here!"

A nurse materialized from behind a nearby curtain and came rushing over brandishing her stethoscope when she saw the captain's condition. Bill had his arms around his son's shoulders, supporting him from behind as he leaned forward, struggling to breathe.

"He's not moving any air in the right upper lobe," the nurse announced after listening to Lee's chest. "Help me get his gown off, we need to get him back on the monitor." While Bill fumbled with the gown's ties, the nurse turned on the O2 and secured it on Lee's face. By this time Bill had managed to get the gown undone and the nurse practically ripped it off and quickly stuck the monitor leads on his chest.

"What's wrong with my son?" Adama demanded.

"I think he has a collapsed lung, but the doctor will have to say for sure." She then ran off, calling for Dr. Cottle.

It was rare for Admiral Adama to find himself in a situation where he did not feel in control, but this was one of those times. He tightened his hold on his son as he tried to understand how things could have changed so quickly. Within moments the nurse reappeared, Dr. Cottle right behind her. He didn't even bother speaking but immediately placed his stethoscope on Lee's chest. Adama watched intently as the doctor examined his son.

Cottle finally straightened and turned to the nurse. "Get a chest x-ray, AP and lateral, and an ABG. Then bring me a chest tube tray and a local anesthetic." The nurse hurried off and the doctor turned his attention to the worried man at the bedside. "Admiral, you need to wait outside."

"Like hell!" Adama channeled his fear into anger. "Now tell me what's going on!"

Cottle raised his eyebrows at Adama's refusal to leave. Quickly gauging the man's determination he decided it wasn't a battle he would win easily. Having security drag the Admiral from sick bay wouldn't go over well. Aside from that, he didn't have time for it. "I need the test results to make a firm diagnosis, but I believe a portion of his right lung has collapsed."

"How is that possible? He was just lying here!" Adama couldn't comprehend how Lee's condition could have changed so quickly without any provocation.

"It's called a spontaneous pneumothorax, and it just happens. That's why it's called _spontaneous_. Look Admiral, we'll have to do the physiology lesson later. If you intend to stay here you need to keep out of the way." The doctor indicated the tech that had arrived with the portable x-ray machine.

Bill realized he was going to have to move, but didn't have to like it. He leaned in close and whispered, "I'm not leaving, son, I'm right here. They just need to take some x-rays." Lee managed to nod slightly, then Bill reluctantly released Lee and stepped over to stand beside the doctor.

"Why aren't you giving him anything for pain?" Adama demanded as he watched the tech position his son.

"Because emergency intubation isn't my idea of a good time," Cottle replied pointedly, not bothering to look at Adama but keeping his attention rapt on his patient and the monitor display. "Listen Admiral, I don't hang around CIC during Cylon attacks asking a bunch of damn fool questions about your battle strategy. I appreciate that you're worried but you have got to back off and let us do our jobs. I know he's in pain but until I know exactly what we're dealing with, I can't risk medicating him."

Adama swallowed hard and realized Cottle was right. He wouldn't want anything to put his son at risk. The doctor had chosen a metaphor that made his point well. He vowed silently that he would not interfere with anything the medical staff was doing and would wait until Lee was okay to ask any more questions.

As soon as the x-rays were done, Bill moved back to his position supporting Lee from behind. Lee was again hunched over clutching his chest in pain. Bill covered Lee's hands with his own and held him close. Bill experienced an odd moment of déjà vu and wondered why. Then he remembered that Lee had held him like this when they were on Kobol. He pressed his cheek against his son's hair, part of him savoring this rare physical closeness with Lee despite his overwhelming fear. He heard Cottle say he was going to read the x-rays and would be right back. Then the nurse was there, saying she needed blood.

Lee distractedly extended his arm to her, not changing his position otherwise. He heard her explaining something about taking blood from an artery in his wrist but he wasn't really listening. He was concentrating on breathing. She felt for his radial pulse and swabbed the area.

"It's going to hurt, Lee," Adama whispered. Lee was puzzled by his father's warning. It was just a blood test. Most of the staff were pretty good; he barely felt anything when they slipped the needle into his vein. Curiosity got the better of him and he turned his head just in time to see the nurse plunge the needle straight into his wrist. Okay, yeah, that hurt.

Lee paled and sagged back against his father, a bit unnerved at seeing the syringe fill by itself from arterial pressure.

"Maybe watching wasn't the best idea, son."

Lee silently agreed and pressed his cheek back against his father's chest.

In a moment, Cottle was back with another nurse. She started arranging supplies on the nearby table while the doctor took the opportunity to talk to Lee. "Captain, you do have a collapsed lung, but don't worry, we'll fix you up. You'll be as good as new in a few days. I'm going to put a tube in your chest so the lung can re-inflate." As he spoke, he tapped the point where he would insert the tube. "How bad's the pain on a scale of one to ten?"

"Seven...maybe eight," Lee gasped.

Cottle nodded, having expected that. "I can't risk giving you anything too strong right now, but I'll see if we can take the edge off." He turned to the nurse and gave orders for a small dose of pain medication and a mild sedative.

"Bill, it's time for you to go."

"I already told you I'm not leaving." Adama's tone and expression left no room for argument.

Cottle rolled his eyes and muttered something to himself that Adama didn't quite catch. Then he sighed and looked Adama in the eye. "Fine. But if you pass out over there don't expect us to stop everything to pick you up off the floor."

"Don't worry about me. You just take care of my son."

"You do realize that you'll have to move?"

Adama was still sitting on the bed behind Lee, holding him close. He carefully got up, keeping one arm around his son's shoulders for support. The nurse raised the head of the bed so it was at a 60 degree angle and then helped Bill gently ease Lee back against the pillow and positioned him with his right arm above his head.

Dr. Cottle started placing sterile drapes across Lee's chest while the nurse injected the drugs she'd brought. Lee had lost the battle with the doctor about removing his IV the day before. He didn't need fluids but still had the catheter for access. The nurse was glad she hadn't had to start a new one along with everything else. She presumed Lee was too, although it was unlikely he realized it at the moment.

"This will feel cold," Cottle warned before he cleaned the intended site of insertion with a sterilizing solution.

Bill hovered close to the bedside, holding Lee's left hand.

"Where's that local anesthetic?"

The nurse placed the syringe into Cottle's outstretched hand. "All right. I'm going to numb the area now. It's going to sting for a bit."

Lee thought he was prepared, but he still flinched when Cottle started. The area was sensitive anyway, and it didn't help that it was so close to the gunshot wound which was still pretty sore. Also, he'd expected a couple of quick injections, like when he'd needed stitches. This was lasting for longer than he'd anticipated. He shifted his eyes so he could see what was taking so long. He gasped softly when he saw the doctor had a 20cc syringe. He kept repositioning the needle deeper and injecting more. No wonder it hurt.

Cottle noticed his patient watching him. He knew this was painful. Not as painful as not doing it would be, though. "Look over towards your Dad. You're breathing on my sterile field." Cottle still sounded gruff despite his underlying compassion. "Bill, you insisted on being here. Make yourself useful. Talk to him. Sing to him for all I care. Get him to think about something else."

Lee couldn't remember if he'd ever heard his father sing. He was feeling a little lightheaded from the drugs so that idea was enough to suddenly produce a mental image of his dad singing and dancing like a performer in a cabaret. Complete with a flamboyant costume. He now found himself in the peculiar situation of simultaneously trying not to laugh and trying not to cry out in pain. The drugs made it harder to control his emotions so he ended up making a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a cough.

"Hey, what's so funny? I can sing!" Adama pretended to be insulted, inwardly grateful for Cottle's help. He still was at a loss of how to comfort his son with words.

"I don't…think so…Dad," Lee somehow managed to smirk and grimace at the same time.

"I hope you're not going to try to prove him wrong," Cottle said sternly. "I was being facetious. I do care if you sing." He laid the empty syringe aside. "It's a moot point now anyway. I'm all done with this part."

He waited a few moments for the medication to work then held out his hand to the nurse again. "Scalpel."

The doctor lightly pressed the tip of the blade to Lee's skin. "Can you feel this?"

"Feel what?"

Lee's answer was exactly what the doctor wanted to hear. The anesthesia had taken effect. "I'm going to make a small incision now. Don't worry. You won't feel a thing."

Adama swallowed hard and gripped his son's hand a little tighter. Cottle was really going to cut into Lee's chest? Having learned his lesson previously, he carefully avoided looking in that direction. He patted Lee's shoulder. "Close your eyes and try to relax." He decided to try his hand at some comforting words. He wasn't sure if they were for Lee or for himself.

"Is that…an order?" Lee smiled wanly.

"A direct order, Captain."

"Aye, sir," Lee whispered and closed his eyes. He could tell Cottle was touching him, but didn't experience any discomfort. It took a few moments to incise the skin, the underlying tissue and the layer of muscle beneath that. Cottle thought to himself that it was ironic that the young man's excellent physical condition would actually make this more painful. It would be hard to force the tube through the well-toned muscle.

"Lee?" Cottle uncharacteristically used his patient's first name.

"Huh?" Lee mumbled, without opening his eyes.

"I'm going to put the tube in now. You're going to feel some pain. Don't move. You can yell, curse, you can even call me names, but do not move."

The nurse had placed her hands on Lee's right shoulder and wrist, and with a look at Adama let him know that he was responsible for holding Lee's left side in place.

Seeing everyone was ready, Cottle thrust the tube through the incision into the pleural space. He felt it pop as it entered the pleura.

Lee felt it too.

He stifled a gasp and blinked back tears. He hadn't felt any pain during the procedure since the local had been administered and wasn't expecting it to hurt that much. Firm hands kept him from jerking away.

"This is the worst part, Lee. I know it hurts, but you've got to hold still." He continued advancing the tube.

"Ahhhh, Frak!" Lee finally lost his battle to remain silent. "Sorry," he immediately apologized for his profanity.

"Don't be sorry. I've heard much worse," the nurse assured him. "This sounds silly, but it will hurt less if you yell."

Lee found the idea of screaming at the top of his voice strangely appealing at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He forced himself to lie motionless and didn't cry out again, but squeezed his father's hand with enough pressure that the Admiral wondered if he'd have a bruise.

"All right, son, it's in," Cottle announced. "You can relax now." He deftly sutured the tube in place and the nurse assisted him in covering it with a dressing.

"You're okay, Lee. It's over." Bill wished he could gather his son into his arms, but he was afraid that would cause him pain. He settled for stroking Lee's dark hair back from his forehead. Lee was pale and still, breathing hard but no longer struggling to breathe. Bill leaned over and lightly kissed his son's brow. "I love you, son," he whispered. Lee didn't have the strength to answer but he managed a small smile and squeezed his father's hand.

Kara Thrace had been very busy for the last two and a half weeks, doing her own job plus filling in as temporary CAG. She told herself that she hadn't been to sick bay to visit Lee because she just hadn't had time. She wondered how there was any paper left in the fleet. She was sure she had written a report on every last scrap. Of course, she would go to visit Lee as soon as she had a free moment. This is what she'd been telling herself every day since it happened. It. The accident. The shooting. The hostage crisis. Whatever anyone wanted to call it. Her screw-up. She had tried to visit Lee immediately after he came out of surgery, but had been taken aback to find Dee sitting at Lee's bedside already, waiting for him to wake up. She felt she would be intruding if she stayed, so she had left quietly before anyone even knew she was there.

She finally admitted to herself that she was scared to see Lee. Scared and ashamed, both to see what she'd done to him and to find out if he hated her for it. At last she convinced herself that Starbuck didn't run from anything. She would go and see Lee, tell him how sorry she was, and take it from there. She couldn't risk Dee being there, though. She had to talk to Lee alone. She had just delivered the next week's CAP schedule to Colonel Tigh in CIC and she'd noticed Dee on duty. The shift wouldn't change for several hours. This would be the perfect time. She could do this. She had to do this.

Kara kept up a silent monologue with herself as she walked through the corridors towards sick bay. _Lee would be there for me. I should be there for him. Of course, Lee wouldn't have shot me. But he knows it was an accident. Of course he knows that. He doesn't blame me. I'm sure he doesn't. And he doesn't hate me. Hell, if he doesn't hate me for Zak he wouldn't hate me for this. Would he?"_

Kara's pace became more and more tentative as she neared her destination. Finally she reached sick bay and ventured to peep between the curtains which were drawn around Lee's bed. She paled as she saw a nurse and the Admiral holding Lee down while Cottle did something to him that must hurt like hell because he was cursing. She almost forgot to breathe when she heard him cry out in pain. She'd expected him to be nearly recovered by now. She was appalled by the scene before her. She quickly let the small gap in the curtains close and turned her back to them, trying to get her bearings. Lee was still this sick? In this much pain? Gods, how could he stand the sight of her? How could she have done this to him? She knew that she could not face him now. She crept out of sick bay wondering what thing of value she possessed that she could trade to the Chief for some of that stuff the deck crew concocted in their makeshift still.

Lee's respiratory status had improved considerably, and Cottle finally felt comfortable giving him a full dose of pain medication. He was now sleeping. Bill was relieved that his son seemed stable now, but also felt like screaming in frustration. He'd come here thinking Lee was just days away from being released and now here he was heavily medicated, on oxygen, and with a tube the size of a garden hose stuck in his chest. He felt like Lee was back to square one.

"Come to my office. You look like you could use a drink." Cottle plied the worried man away from his son's bedside. "He'll sleep for hours now. Come on."

Adama reluctantly followed the doctor, glancing back at Lee a couple of times as he went.

When they entered the doctor's small office, Cottle poured them both a cup of coffee. Not quite the type drink he'd prefer but he was on duty and the Admiral was due in CIC soon. If they couldn't have alcohol, they would make do with caffeine.

"Sit. Drink."

Cottle was not a verbose man, Adama thought wryly.

"You've got questions. Let's hear them."

The doctor was right. Bill had questions. He had lots of them, or at least he did earlier. He realized now that he didn't really want to know all the technical medical details about what had happened. It seemed too macabre to listen to the doctor recount a "physiology lesson" as he'd put it, with his son as the focus. There was only one question on his mind now. "Will he be all right?"

"He should be fine. These things usually resolve in a few days. When the lung is back to normal we'll take the tube out and he should be ready for discharge a few days after that. It will mean he'll have to take physical therapy a bit slower, though."

Bill nodded as he processed this information.

"He should be off the oxygen by tomorrow and he can even try walking around if he feels up to it. Of course a nurse will have to help him manage the chest tube but it won't keep him confined to bed."

Adama presumed Lee would be relieved at that. He'd only just started being able to walk unaided and doing some basic exercises with the therapist in sick bay. It was good to know he'd be able to resume that soon. He knew his son wanted to get back in the gym, although Bill knew from personal experience it would take time for him to get back to his full strength. He stood and downed the remainder of the coffee.

"Bill, there's something else. He will recover as I said, but there is a chance that this could happen again in the future. It won't be a problem if he gets to sick bay right away, but left untreated for a time it could cause the organs in his chest to shift, resulting in cardiac arrest. One thing that could trigger it is flying in an unpressurized aircraft." Cottle waited a moment for his words to sink in. He knew the message had gotten across when he saw Adama's eyes widen in horror.

"Y..You mean…he can't…he can't fly?" Bill stammered.

"Not a viper." Cottle confirmed. "Not anymore."

"For how long?" Adama demanded.

Cottle took a deep breath and looked the worried father in the eye. "Admiral, it's very unlikely he'll ever be medically cleared to fly vipers again. Ever," he repeated for emphasis. He didn't need to elaborate on what might happen if Lee's lung were to collapse while he was in combat.

Adama turned away in grief and shock. "Not ever? What's he supposed to do now?" he muttered.

Cottle recognized that it was a rhetorical question, but he chose to answer anyway. "Promote him. All you flyboys get promoted out of the cockpit eventually anyway." He ignored the glare that statement provoked and continued. "I'm sure there's enough administrative work around to keep him occupied. Integrating the squadrons, managing the viper foundry, overseeing pilot training…"

"I get the idea." Adama interrupted him. He stood silently for a moment, thinking. "Don't tell him," he said suddenly. Seeing the doctor's expression he amended, "Not yet. Just give me a few days to iron out the job description for a new position, requiring the rank of major."

"All right then," Dr. Cottle agreed. "I'll give him a few days. He should be more stable medically before he gets that kind of news anyway. But he should hear it from me," Cottle stated resolutely.

Adama nodded, realizing the doctor was right. He doubted Lee would take it well. Adama wasn't afraid to be the one to tell his son, but he knew if he did he'd never be able to cut through Lee's anger to try to help him cope with it. It was only appropriate that the doctor deliver such a prognosis anyway. He would get to give Lee the good news. Lee was a fine officer. He deserved a promotion. He'd make an excellent major. Pleased with this decision, despite still feeling a profound sense of loss on his son's behalf, he turned to go.

Checking again to see that his son was still sleeping, Bill reluctantly left sick bay and headed for CIC. On his way there, he met Chief Petty Officer Dualla in the corridor. He suddenly realized where she was going and stopped to talk to her. She saluted and started to continue on her way.

"Dee."

She stopped. "Sir?"

Adama glanced up and down the corridor to confirm that they were alone. "I need to talk to you. It's about Lee."

The young woman froze inside, stood at attention and put on a false smile. "Captain Adama and I are just friends, Sir."

"I see." Adama hadn't considered that she would think he disapproved. "Well. I can't think of anyone I'd rather see him be…friends…with." He smiled at her.

"Sir?" Did the Admiral just tell her he didn't mind that she and Lee were together?

"You're not directly under his command. And things are a little different now that the world's ended, don't you think?"

"Yes, Sir." She remained at attention.

"That's not why I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh?" Dee had no idea what the Admiral was getting at.

Adama found it hard to say the next words. "At ease," he began. "Lee…um…" he trailed off, suddenly unsure of how to tell her. Taking a deep breath, he found his resolve. "This morning, Lee's lung collapsed."

Dee's hand flew to her mouth, but Adama continued.

"He's doing better now, but he's still pretty sick. He has a tube in his chest and he's back on oxygen. I thought you should know. Before you saw him, I mean."

Dee paled as she processed this information. She nodded. She was going to ask if he was sure Lee would be all right, but then she realized he wouldn't have left sick bay if he weren't. "Thank you, Sir."

She made her way to sick bay and quietly entered Lee's curtained-off area. She took a moment to compose herself before she went closer. She silently thanked the Admiral for his warning, as she was shocked even having been prepared. She hated to think how she would have reacted if she had not been. When she had seen Lee last, he was sitting up and joking around with her. Now he looked so ill. A nurse was there checking his vital signs. When he moved away, the young petty officer took his place at Lee's side. He smiled at Dee as he left. "Don't worry, it's not as bad as it looks. He's stable now. He'll be fine in a couple of days." Dee had been a fixture in sick bay and most of the staff were aware of her feelings for the CAG.

Dee sat in the chair beside Lee's bed and watched him sleep. She closed her eyes and bowed her head.

_Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer_ she prayed silently. _Please grant healing to this man, Lee Adama_. _Please watch over him and give him strength. We need him. I need him._ _So say we all._

When she raised her head, she found a pair of blue eyes staring up at her. "Hey," he said weakly.

"Hey, yourself. I see you got bored and decided to cause some excitement around here."

"Yeah, that's me. Mr. Excitement." He rolled his eyes. "I'll take boredom over this any day."

Dee reached over and took his hand. "Can I get you anything?"

Lee shook his head. "Just tell me what's new. Besides this." He gestured vaguely at his newly acquired medical tubes.

Dee began recounting the events of her shift and Lee drifted off listening to her voice. She stopped talking when she realized he was asleep but she sat watching him for some time. "I won't let you go, Lee," she whispered. "I told you before, you have to stay."


	3. Chapter 3

"Poor Lee. Your life is so hard, isn't it." Kara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lee's mind rapidly flashed back over the last month. Dressing changes, physical therapy, pain and boredom. Yeah, his life was a frakkin' bed of roses.

"You mean since I got shot?"

* * *

_10 days earlier..._

Lee picked at his lunch. Food in life station was even worse that the stuff from the galley. He absently wondered how that was possible. Didn't all the food come from the same place? Cottle had removed the chest tube that morning. They had given him morpha first, but if it had helped, he couldn't tell. He didn't expect it to hurt almost as much to be removed as it did when it was put in, but it came close. At least the pain hadn't lasted too long this time and with the chest tube gone, Cottle had given the okay for his IV to be removed as well. He was finally able to take a real shower. If he ever had another sponge bath it would be too soon. Best of all, he was able to wear his own clothes instead of a hospital gown. His father had brought him a pair of sweat pants and his tanks that morning. He felt much more human wearing them.

Dee still seemed ever-present, when she wasn't on duty of course. Admiral Adama came less frequently now his son's condition was much less serious, but he still made it by for at least a few minutes every day. However, Kara had still not bothered to visit. Lee had moved on from being annoyed at her absence to being downright insulted. When she'd said there was nothing between them, he didn't think she meant they were no longer friends, just that she didn't want there to be any more than that. Now he wasn't so sure.

He had been doing some basic exercises for the last few days. The physical therapist, Rachel, had promised him a trip to the gym when the chest tube was out. She showed up with a wheelchair promptly after his lunch tray was taken away.

"Ready to go?"

Lee managed a halfhearted smile. _No_ was what he wanted to say, but he knew no wasn't an option, so he settled himself into the chair and sat back for the ride.

They passed a few people in the corridors. They waved or had a word of encouragement. He tried to smile back at them. He knew they would expect it. Soon they had arrived at the gym. Rachel had him warm up for a few minutes before starting to use any of the equipment. They began with the leg press. She said something about starting with a major muscle group that wasn't directly affected by his injury. He was completely surprised when he was winded after only fifteen reps. They moved on to several other pieces of equipment before coming to the bench press. Lee almost laughed when he saw the weights on the machine. A kid could bench press more than that.

Rachel noticed his smirk. "You won't think it's funny by the time we're done," she promised. Lee merely raised his eyebrows at her as he lowered himself into position on the bench. He easily lifted the bar, the first three times. By the time he'd made ten repetitions, he decided privately perhaps she was right. Rachel had stood close, spotting him, and helped him replace the bar. "That's enough for your first day." Lee gave her an "If you say so" look but inwardly was relieved. He wasn't sure he could have lifted the bar another time.

Next they moved to the mat. "Let's try some crunches. Start with fifteen," Rachel suggested.

Lee had thought crunches only used the abdominal muscles so he was surprised to feel the strain in his chest as well. He had to force himself to finish the set. He lay back and took several deep breaths. "Okay, do ten more." Rachel had obviously decided he'd rested long enough. He set his jaw and managed to do what she'd asked. "Catch your breath for a minute and then try some push-ups."

Lee wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and grunted softly as he turned over. A month ago, he could easily do fifty, and could push himself to do one hundred. Today he managed four before collapsing to the floor in pain and exhaustion.

"That's it for today, Captain," Rachel patted his shoulder as she spoke. "Let's get you back to sick bay."

Lee stayed on the mat, breathing hard, as she brought the wheelchair to his side. He managed to climb into it own his own, waving off her offer of assistance. He had wondered initially why she'd made him use it, thinking it was a bit like driving a car to the gym back home. If the idea was to get some exercise, why not walk? However, he now doubted he would be able to make it all the way to sick bay from here, so he guessed she knew what she was doing after all. His shoulder felt like it was on fire as they traveled back to sick bay. He crawled gratefully into his bed and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

"Captain Adama. Captain Adama! Wake up!" The nurse shook her patient gently when he didn't respond to her calls.

"Hmmm? What?" Lee mumbled.

"Your dinner's here." She raised the head of his bed as she spoke. "Try and eat more than you did at lunch, okay?" she admonished and was gone.

Lee stared at the unappetizing tray. He sighed and picked up his fork. Or he tried to. His right arm seemed to be made of rubber. It felt like overcooked pasta. He literally couldn't lift it. It wasn't that it hurt to move it, it just wouldn't move. He sighed again, raising his eyebrows, and reached for the fork with his left hand. He could eat left-handed. He certainly wasn't going to admit to anyone that he'd overdone it today.

Somewhere along the way he fell asleep again. His father found him like that when he stopped by. Bill took the fork from his son's limp fingers and pushed the tray away. Lee never stirred as his dad lowered the head of his bed and pulled the covers up over him. "Guess I need to come by earlier if I want to actually get to talk to you, huh?" Bill said quietly. "Sleep well, son." He patted Lee's good shoulder softly as he spoke. He had heard from the staff that Lee had spent a lot of time in P/T that afternoon and remembered how exhausting it was to try to force your body to respond as it used to. However, Bill was sure that it wouldn't be long before Lee was back in shape. He had youth on his side, after all.

The next morning, Rachel showed up not long after breakfast. "You get two sessions today, Captain. Morning and afternoon."

Lee was thinking it would go better today, but his muscles were sore from his efforts the day before, and he actually did worse. Even his thigh and calf muscles were sore. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd been this out of shape. Rachel told him this was normal, that it took less than a week of inactivity for one's cardiovascular fitness to deteriorate. He knew she meant that to be reassuring, but he actually found it discouraging. He had lost this much ground in only three weeks? He had expected his arm to take some time getting back to full strength, but not his entire body. And six weeks to recover? Or longer? No, that was not encouraging in the least.

* * *

The next couple of days were no different for Lee. He worked himself into exhaustion by doing exercises that wouldn't have even made him break a sweat before. He found it immensely frustrating. Despite that, he was released from sick bay. He wasn't ready to resume his duties, but he didn't require medical care any longer. Cottle told him there was no sense in him taking up one of his beds. Lee was more than happy to go sleep in his own rack where at least no one would bother him if the curtains were closed. There was no such privacy in sick bay. His only orders were to continue physical therapy and report back for his recertification physical in a few days.

Rivulets of sweat trickled down Lee Adama's chest and back. His face was a mask of concentration as he moved the weights up and down on the lat machine. His muscles rippled with the strain. The only sounds were Lee's breathing and the clinking of the weights. Lee liked to come to the gym when he knew no one else would be there. He would not admit it to anyone, but he was self-conscious about how weak he still was. He had tried running for the first time that morning, but found he could barely make it half a mile before wheezing like an out-of-shape nugget on his first ten mile hike. Lee had actually enjoyed those runs back at the academy. He had started running in high school, and used to get up and run several miles before breakfast. It was a great way to relax and get some time to think. Even now, aboard Galactica, he could run and feel solitude even as he dodged crewmembers in the narrow corridors. Finished with his repetitions on the lat machine, he moved to the bench press. He used to win bets at the academy on this piece of equipment; he could bench press more than most guys twice his size. Not anymore. He still wasn't up to even half of what he could do before. In resignation, he lowered himself on to the bench and gripped the bar. He'd never had to force himself to exercise before. It had always come naturally to him. This was all foreign to him.

At least he was on his own now; Rachel had cut him loose a couple of days ago. She had given him a strict schedule of slowly increasing his work-outs and threatened him not to go too fast or he would do more harm than good. He had actually not intended to follow her well-meaning professional advice, but found himself unable to push himself beyond the parameters she had set for him. He was quite exasperated with his body. He wanted to will it to respond as it always had in the past. As he continued to lift the weights, he realized that Rachel was right and rebuilding his top-notch fitness level was not going to happen easily. He'd never considered himself to be vain, but now that such a fundamental part of himself had been altered, he was forced to recognize how much of his self-esteem was tied up in his physical abilities. Lee may not be the biggest or the tallest, but he was a force to be reckoned with in a fight. Back in high school, he had been picked on for being one of the smaller boys. That's when he'd discovered the benefits of lifting weights along with long distance running. Once word had gotten around school that he could either outrun you or take you out, Lee had been left alone. The fact that girls had been impressed with his ripped muscles had been an added bonus. Of course he had been much older before he started to develop a real chiseled physique.

Lee replaced the bar and moved on to the leg press. At least this machine was just tiring, not painful. He rubbed his shoulder lightly as he pressed the weights with his legs, gingerly tracing the scar on his chest. Rachel had assured him it would fade over time. Of course, it would never disappear entirely. Sighing, he got up and grabbed a towel. He scrubbed it over his hair and then wiped some of the sweat from his chest, carefully avoiding his right shoulder. He grabbed his tanks from where he'd tossed them earlier and headed for the showers.

The warm water cascaded over aching muscles, and Lee sighed with contentment as some of the soreness dissipated. He couldn't allow himself much time to experience this pleasure; water was a precious resource. He quickly soaped his hair and his body and rinsed, again enjoying the sensation of warmth for a few moments before turning off the spray. He toweled the excess moisture from his hair and dried himself, carefully patting the area near the healed wound. He wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped out of the shower. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Lee wasn't naïve. He knew his body was attractive to women (and truth be told, to some men as well). He couldn't help noticing that despite his infirmity, he still looked good. Maybe he had lost just a bit of definition in his abs and back, but nothing overtly conspicuous. Realizing with sudden horror that he was unintentionally flexing his muscles for himself to admire, he turned away from the mirror, grabbed his clothes and quickly dressed. He would have been beyond mortified had anyone entered and found him doing that. A few drops of water dripped from the still-wet ends of his hair and some moisture still clung to his arms as he left the head. He was looking very deserving of his call sign. No one who saw him would have guessed that the powerfully built outward appearance of Lee Adama concealed pain, frustration, and insecurity.

Lee spent the next several days eating, sleeping and working out in the gym. Not in that order. He'd managed to work up to running a mile and was steadily adding weights to the resistance machines each day. Lee had joined in a few games of triad, but mostly kept to himself. He wasn't really up for company and everyone else was pretty busy anyway. Despite his physical gains, he still didn't feel anywhere near back to normal but he had been ordered to report to sick bay for his recertification physical that afternoon.

He had run into his father in the corridor as he'd left the gym that morning. He hadn't seen much of him over the last few days. Lee presumed the Admiral was catching up on the paper work he must have let slide while spending so much time in sickbay the past few weeks while Lee was so sick. They'd exchanged pleasantries, and Bill had asked when he thought he might be returning to duty. He'd seemed surprised when Lee had told him possibly as early as the next day, depending on what Cottle had to say that afternoon. Then he became serious and told Lee to come by his office before he reported to the doctor.

Lee had grabbed a quick shower and something that passed for lunch, then dressed and reported to the Admiral's office.

Lee knocked on his father's door, wondering what he wanted. It had sounded like an order rather than a request, but he was still off duty after all.

"Come in, Captain." The admiral opened the hatch and ushered his son inside. "I know you're expected in sick bay soon. This won't take long." Adama indicated to Lee to take a seat. Lee knew the use of his rank meant this wasn't just a personal visit. He looked expectantly at the Admiral, unsure what this was about. He didn't have to wait long. Adama sat down across from him and began speaking.

"The addition of Pegasus to the fleet has changed a lot of things. We've been functioning as two separate ships. We need to be a team. A united force against the Cylons. I need someone to oversee the air groups of both ships, make them a cohesive fighting unit. I also want that person to oversee the construction of new vipers and raptors and deal directly with the supply and labor facets of that operation. In addition, I want the flight instructor to report directly to this person, in order that newly minted pilots can be assigned to whichever ship would be the best fit for them."

Lee took a deep breath. He had a good idea of where this was heading.

Adama saw Lee's thoughts play out across his face. He nodded at his son. "Yes, I want you for this position. You have the knowledge and the skills to handle it." He waited a moment, allowing Lee to absorb what he'd said. "And with responsibility comes privilege." Adama stood as he continued. "You are hereby promoted to the rank of major, with all the rights, responsibilities and benefits thereof, effective immediately. You will begin your new duties as soon as you are released from Dr. Cottle's care. Which I presume will mean you start tomorrow. Congratulations, Major."

Lee rose to shake his father's proffered hand. He wasn't sure what to say. He swallowed hard, feeling a bit overwhelmed. He'd finally gotten comfortable with his role as CAG and now he was being handed even more responsibility. However he was also pleased that his father thought he could handle it. He knew the admiral didn't give compliments lightly and wouldn't have chosen him unless he truly thought he was capable, but he couldn't help the nagging feeling he had in the back of his mind. It didn't seem his new duties would leave much time for flying. He wasn't quite sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Seeing his son's uneasiness, Adama finally spoke, transitioning from commanding officer to father. "You'd better go on, you don't want to keep Cottle waiting," he smiled. "Hey, how about joining me for dinner tonight?"

"Thanks Dad, but I...um...I have plans already."

Adama smiled. He had a pretty good idea who his son's plans involved.

"Another time, then. Enjoy yourself, son."

Lee wasn't sure what to make of that either. "Thanks," he managed, and headed down to sick bay.

He didn't think he was actually late, but Dr. Cottle was waiting for him when he walked in.

"Good. You're here." He handed Lee a gown and indicated for him to change, pointing him towards an exam room.

* * *

Lee gingerly pulled his tanks back on and then slipped into his pants. He sat on the edge of the exam table to put on his boots and then shrugged into his jacket. Cottle had poked and prodded him to within an inch of his life. The doctor took certifying a man to be fit for duty very seriously. He had finally finished his thorough examination and told Lee to get dressed and then come to his office.

He knocked on Cottle's door and entered when the doctor motioned him inside.

"Sit down, Captain."

Lee sat. He didn't like the way the doctor was looking at him.

"It's, ah, major now, actually." Lee said hesitantly, not quite used to the idea himself.

"Well, then. Major." Cottle nodded, noting the new insignia on Lee's collar. "I suppose congratulations are in order. Good. Didn't seem right that you and Thrace had the same rank."

Lee couldn't help but smile at this logic. He'd never admitted it, even to himself, but that had bothered him, too.

"The good news is I'm cutting you loose. You're fit to resume administrative duties."

Lee sighed inwardly. Despite being bored with only being able to hang around the pilots' quarters or do rehab exercises in the gym, he wasn't anxious to return to duty. He didn't feel anywhere near 100. His chest was still pretty sore and if he moved his arm the wrong way it really hurt. However, he knew Cottle was expecting him to be pleased so he nodded and raised the corners of his mouth a little. He was also acutely aware that conversations that began with the words "the good news is" did not usually end well. He waited tensely, wondering what was coming next.

"So...there's also bad news?" Lee didn't think the doctor had called him into his office just to tell him he was cleared for duty.

Dr. Cottle took a deep breath and nodded. "There's no good way to say this so I'll just come right out with it. Due to the nature of your injuries, you're not going to be physically capable of recertifying as a viper pilot. Not now, not ever. Chest trauma and all those Gs do not mix. The risk that your lung could collapse again is just too high." Cottle waited for the explosion he was sure was about to occur.

Lee stared straight ahead. He thought he was prepared for whatever the doctor might say, but he hadn't been anticipating that. He pressed his lips together in a thin line as he contemplated the ramifications of the doctor's prognosis. He knew Cottle was expecting him to be angry or upset. He wasn't, though. He just felt...nothing. He felt nothing. He wasn't happy or sad or angry or bitter. He was...empty.

An awkward silence ensued.

"I see," Lee finally said quietly.

The doctor knew this was devastating news for the young man, but he also knew there weren't any words that would make it better. The captain - major, he mentally corrected himself – would simply have to adjust.

Lee left sick bay, not really paying any attention to where he was going. His mind was a jumble of thoughts. He hadn't been eager to get recertified for combat before he'd been injured, but he wasn't sure how he felt now that it was no longer being possible. He felt angry, relieved, sad, and confused all at the same time. If he wasn't a viper pilot, then what was he? If the Holocaust hadn't happened he would be given an honorable discharge from the service. He could go live happily ever after on Caprica. Or maybe Picon. Damn the Cylons. He hadn't thought it was possible to hate them more than he already did. But he was tired of fighting them. He was tired of everything. He eventually ended up in his quarters after running into his father again. He now had official orders for tomorrow. He took off his jacket, laying it aside. He looked briefly at the new insignia on the collar before checking his watch. He was supposed to meet Dee for dinner. They didn't have the luxury of going to Cloud Nine, but he wasn't really anxious to go back there anytime soon anyway. They were just going to meet in the galley. _Not that exciting, but hey, what is,_ Lee thought morosely.

After dinner, they wound up in Lee's quarters. Kara had been sent to Pegasus several days earlier and he was to join her first thing in the morning. He wasn't looking forward to it. He hadn't seen her since that day on Cloud Nine. Not once. Now it seemed she had managed to rub the new CO of Pegasus the wrong way and it was going to be up to him to sort it all out. Great. Cleaning up after Kara - his favorite thing to do. Why was he thinking of Kara when there was a beautiful woman with her arms around him. Dee obviously wasn't ready for the evening to end. He knew what she wanted. She smiled beguilingly at him as she hung her boots outside the hatch. He supposed he should be glad; he hadn't been with a woman in some time. It had been four weeks since he'd been shot, and how long before that had it been? He decided not to think any more along those lines. Not counting the sex-that-wasn't with Kara, he guessed it had been Shevon that he'd last been with. At least he wouldn't have to pay Dee extra if they fell asleep afterwards, he thought morosely. Part of him felt guilty for using her, but he rationalized that since this was her idea it didn't really matter so much. Then she was pulling off his tanks and they were kissing and he didn't think of anything or anyone else.

* * *

The next morning he was stiff and sore. She had done most of the work, if you could call it that, but he had still exerted himself a bit too much. He winced as he put on his uniform and moved his shoulder the wrong way. Dee noticed. He hadn't thought she wouldn't.

"How do you feel?"

"Not great." He didn't have the desire or the strength to put up a front for her. "But Cottle's given me the thumbs-up and it's been almost a month, so I guess it's back to work."

Dee came up behind him and put her arms around him. She made a fuss over his major's insignia. Lee couldn't help but wonder if his father had known what Cottle was going to tell him. But how could he have? He'd met with his father before his physical. He frowned, remembering Cottle's words. _"Chest trauma and all those Gs don't mix."_ Had Cottle known his prognosis even before he did the exam? He decided it really didn't make a difference if he did or not. The result was the same. His life had once again been radically changed through no impetus of his own. He had no choice but to make the best of it. He sighed inwardly as he finished buttoning up his uniform and headed off into the belly of the Beast.


End file.
